Maybe you'll even love me
by Erisa Nuhato
Summary: A Claire x Sylar fic, even though neither of them know it yet. Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
1. Why is Normal so Boring?

The university library was empty, save for the librarian and a small blonde girl dozing on her textbook. Claire Bennet woke with a start when the librarian touched her on the shoulder.

"Huh...oh. Not again. I'm sorry." Claire apologized, closing her textbook and glancing at her watch. It was already 9:30 PM. Gretchen would be wondering where she was.

"That's the second time this week, Ms. Bennet." The librarian chastised concernedly. "I just hope you're getting your work done. For your sake. All this time away from your friends would be wasted if you flunked out, don't you think?" The elderly woman spared Claire a sympathetic smile as she packed her books back into her shoulder bag.

"Get some sleep now, dear, and come back again tomorrow." Claire smiled at her. The librarian had said the same thing every single time this had happened. Unfortunately it was more often than Claire would have liked to admit to. At least a couple times a month, she would doze off over her studies, but lately it'd been happening much more often. Last week, she'd left the library after 9:00 (the official closing time) every day.

"Thank you, Mrs. Johnson. I'll see you tomorrow." It was the same thing Claire said every time.

The streets were quiet as Claire left the library and headed towards the dorm rooms. A single car passed by and continued down the streets. Its lights flooded the surrounding area and Claire had an urge to find cover. She shook it off. _Sometimes cars are just cars, Claire. Not every single person's got it out for you. _The car passed and its light dimmed from view. She laughed at herself silently. What a nice life she had here and yet she felt so sad and alone. For the first time in well over a year, nobody was trying to kill her, nobody was trying to kidnap her, and she'd been away from the terrifying antics of her father's work at The Company. She should be happy.

_Stupid, can't you even appreciate it when you've got nothing to worry about but what everyone else is worrying about? Homework, teachers, exams, parties, boys? Isn't that what you've always wanted; to be normal for a change?_Claire tried to shake away the voice of her own doubts, but it wasn't that easy. The truth was, she couldn't just relax. Despite the long time she'd spent being "normal", she wasn't. She was self-regenerate, and more importantly to her at the moment: immortal. The simple worries of college life seemed irrelevant. Lately she'd been thinking so much more about how much time she had ahead of her. In ten years, when everyone from high school would be meeting up again and lying to each other about how they hadn't changed a bit, she would be exactly the same. And in fifty years, when her family was dying and she was the same, what then? And in one hundred, when the world was moving on, and she stayed the same ageless, immortal cheerleader? What would she do then?

_Stop it, Claire. Worry about it a hundred years from now. _The thought was supposed to be reassuring, but it just made her shudder. She _would _have to think about it in a hundred years. She had all of eternity to think about it.

By then, she'd reached her dorm. Claire stuck the key in the lock as quietly as she could and opened the door slowly, trying not to squeak it.

Her roommate, Gretchen, was fast asleep in her bed. Claire smiled at her friend's silhouette and crept into the room, closing the door behind her.

The blonde girl made her way to her bed in the dark, feeling carefully with her feet so she didn't trip and fall. Feeling her bed, Claire set her bag down and stripped down to her underwear and tank top. She opened the bottom drawer of her nightstand and found the pair of shorts she kept there for such an occasion. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she climbed into her bed and settled in to wait for sleep.

Sleep came quicker than she'd expected, but so did the morning.

"Claire, wake up. Friday, baby gal. TGIF for sure." Gretchen pulled Claire back to reality the next morning. Her dreams, which had seemed so pressing just a moment ago slipped away from her so quickly she felt lost for a single instant without them.

"Come one, girl. Up, up." When Claire just rolled over and pushed her face into the pillows, Gretchen snapped in her ears and shook her shoulders. The blonde grumbled something unintelligible into the pillows.

"Be that way, but I won't take notes for you." Gretchen threatened with a sly laugh.

Claire raised her head up, her hair managing to fall out of the way perfectly, looking almost neat despite it being the closest to bed head it could manage. "You wouldn't." She threatened, eyes narrowed at her friend.

"Oh but I would. Get dressed." Gretchen threw a pair of jeans that landed straight on Claire's head. She got up.

College was uneventful. The same five classes, with the same crappy food during the too-short lunch break in the middle. The people didn't notice her. Gretchen sat dutifully beside her during the two classes they had together, but those classes also had the strictest professors. They were caught talking every time. By then the pair had learned to just stay silent. So the day continued with its dull mediocrity. As much as Claire was relishing the delights of normal life, it was _boring. _She found herself almost wishing for some excitement.

The library was the closest she found. As she had every day for the past two months, she said good-bye to Gretchen and walked to the huge campus library. She waved at the librarian, the same as she did every day, and sat at the table she'd begun to think of as hers.

Claire studied her textbook, dozing occasionally but not falling asleep. The same thing she did every single day. Time just didn't seem to mean the same anymore. Not when she had more of it than she knew what to do with.

_You'll get bored after like a hundred years of trying to kill me off, watching your loved ones drop like flies. _The words came unbidden to her mind. The words Sylar had put there, when he held her against her will, disguised as her own father. Claire wished for it to not be true, but part of her knew it was. But the second part of what he said was what scared her more. _You may eventually come to forgive me. Maybe you'll even love me. _

Sylar had asked her to be his first lady that day. It frightened her more than anything. She and him were going to live for a very long time. She, Peter, and Sylar. Peter she could live with. She would be very happy to spend an eternity with Peter. Sylar...Sylar was frightening and seductive and...Claire didn't even know how else to describe him. She shuddered as if a cold breeze had passed through the room.

Her watch beeped 9:00, shocking her out of her thoughts. Before the librarian could come over, Claire put away her things and headed back towards her dorm.


	2. I Couldn't Get You Off My Mind

Chapter Two: I Couldn't Get My Mind Off You

Claire returned to her room to find it in the same state as yesterday, minus her roommate. She turned on the light, seeing that nobody would be woken, and noticed a sheet of paper on her bed. It was a note from Gretchen. Her roommate's mother had won a weekend cruise off a radio show and she would be gone until Tuesday.

Sighing over her own loneliness, Claire changed into her pajamas and got into bed. A moment later she sat up again, realizing her own mistake. She'd forgotten to turn out the light.

Suddenly the room went dark. Claire stiffened. Nobody was in the room. There had been no bad weather, nothing to cut the power. And someone would have told the students about a power short if it'd been planned.

"Who's there?" Claire asked aloud, eyes wide to try to see in the dark. Nobody answered. Slowly and cautiously, she got out of bed and went to the light switch. It was in the off position. She flicked it up and looked around the room. No one was there.

Frowning, she turned the light off herself and returned to her bed. She closed her eyes and willed for sleep to come. She loosened her tense muscles, one by one, from her toes to her neck. When she reached her jaw, the light suddenly came on again.

Claire's eyes shot open. A quick look told her nobody was in the room. "Who's there?" She asked again. Still no answer. She stood up again, and a movement and sounds made her turn her head.

The paper that had been sitting at the foot of her bed fell to the floor, rustling as it did so. Nothing had stirred it. It was like the light switch, moving for no reason.

Claire crossed the room again to the switch. She had her hand on it and-

"I'll get that for you, Claire bear." The voice she recognized from her nightmares spoke in her ear, with hands on each of her sides to accompany. Sylar.

His name escaped her lips quietly. Of course it was Sylar. Who else could move things without touching them? Well, Peter could, but if Peter ever visited her in the middle of the night, he wouldn't have played with the lights just to freak her out.

His hands moved from her sides to her hair, gently pulling it over her left shoulder and away from the right side of her body. "Changed your mind about wanting the light off, then?" Claire didn't even need to see his face to see that smile, etched into her memory through nightmares. "Suit yourself. I thought it might be kind of..." He paused for a moment and the lights flicked off by themselves, eclipsing the two in darkness.

"Fun." He whispered, so close she could feel his breath of her ear. She started to pull away, but he held her still. His telekineses took away her motion but left her free to talk.

"What do you want now? You've murdered my parents. Come to screw with my college life, too?" She mocked him angrily.

"Someone's had a rough day. We should sit down and have a little chat and you can tell me all about it. That's actually the reason I swung by, funny enough. Seems I couldn't get you off my mind so I came over for a little visit. You don't mind, do you Claire?"

Of course she minded. She was in her own room, in complete darkness, unable to move while a serial killer that had tried to kill her on more than one occasion and succeeded in killing her on one occasion (in order to obtain her ability, but of course she had regenerated shortly after) stood behind her, his lips practically on her ear and his hands shifting place, but always on her body somewhere.

She said nothing. She tried to hold her ground and tell herself that the touching on her back meant nothing. He was just trying to get to her, and she wouldn't let it work.

"As much as I'd love to stay here and chat," Sylar said after a few more seconds of silence, "We've really got to be going. See, college life never appealed to me much." And then he was gone, away from Claire. His hands were gone from her back, and the warmth she could feel coming off him in waves was replaced by cool air once more. She shuddered with relief.

She still couldn't see him, so she had no warning when he raised his hand in the air and moved her body with his ability. Claire felt herself turn faster than she could have on her own, and she walked closer to Sylar. She tried to fight, but her limbs were content to follow his direction. It didn't stop her from resisting, especially when Sylar's will brought her right beside him, close enough to again feel his warmth without actually touching him.

"Not up for a little midnight trip? I'm a fun kind of guy. Isn't this what college is really all about?" He laughed to himself, while looking Claire over as if she was an object, not a human. She realized then that she was an object to him, right now. She was something that he needed for some reason, and he was willing to use force to get. Her thoughts and feelings on the matter were irrelevant to him.

They faced the door, and from the corner of her eye Claire saw Sylar change shape. He looked like a normal college kid now, one she didn't recognize. He looked at her and she saw that his eyes were the same, and he had the same evil grin on his face. She suppressed a shudder. Or maybe Sylar suppressed it for her, considering she had no control over her body. He took her hand, like a couple might when they were walking, but she knew it was just because grabbing her upper arm and dragging her around would be suspicious.

And out the door he pulled her. Claire's feet walked without her bidding them too. Sylar, in his new body, walked slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, and there was no rush to get to the place he was kidnapping her to. She wanted to close her eyes and clench her jaw, but all she could do was blink. The closest to a frown she could get was a neutral, nothing's-wrong-but-nothing's-totally-fantastic-either look. When she tested her muscles, she found that she could smile, though. Of course. The manipulative bastard would leave her free to smile but not to show how much she truly hated him. It was so his style.

"So how's life? It's been a while. Last time we met I might have been trying to kill you, I don't remember..." Sylar trailed off, as if lost in thought. "Oh well, we;re here now. You look like you've been doing good. I hope you're getting A's, like a good little girl." He smiled at her, with that same creepy smile. Like he actually cared anyway. Claire ignored him. He'd probably just hold her mouth shut if she tried talking anyway.

The hallway was completely empty. They saw no one as they walked to the door. Sylar continued his one-sided conversation, taunting her constantly. Every insult brought a fire into her, but every word, and every minute with him drained it, too. Fear was starting to take over. Claire's breathing got just the tiniest bit shallower and she fought off shakes. She was alone.

"I hope you don't mind," Sylar stopped outside, glancing around briefly, "My place is a little far to walk to tonight. Did your father ever take you flying?" Claire's body moved for itself. She let go of his hand and stepped closer, so she was facing his chest. Her arms raised themselves up to his neck and locked together. Sylar made her flatten her body against him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, tighter than he needed to, as if he was trying to make sure there wasn't a single bit of space between them.

Claire just thought of West. Her biological father, Nathan, had never taken her flying, but her short-time boyfriend, West, had. And the form Sylar had taken on was not dissimilar to West's main features. Both had the same hair, skin color, and basic features. Sylar's taken form was taller than West had been, though. And the smell filling Claire's nose as he forced her head against his chest was completely different.

_This is what Sylar smells like. _She thought to herself. _This is what evil smells like._

With that, Sylar shot them into the air. Claire found herself clinging to him instinctively, for fear of falling. Not that she should really be afraid. If she fell now, she would regenerate and walk away unharmed. She tried to force herself to relax, but found that Sylar's power over her would not let her. As soon as she had held on tighter, he'd made it so she could not loosen her hold. What a bastard.

She decided to test her theory. If she was going to get away from him, she would need to understand him. When he moved suddenly in the air to change direction, she faked fear and held on tighter before immediately trying to loosen her hold. Again, he allowed her to hold tighter but not loosen up.

She cursed, because now she was very close. Her forehead was against the side of his face, and she could feel his ear against her skin. Her mouth was in very close proximity to his neck, with two centimeter's separation at most. Claire stied to pull her head away from him, and for a moment she could move, but Sylar caught his mistake and brought her head closer than it had been before. Her nose was flattened against his neck and her lips touched his skin.

_No, no, no, no NO! _She thought, panicked. This was much, much worse. Claire had noticed how every single moment, Sylar had been forcing her closer to him. What was this? Why would he force her to do this?

_Maybe you'll even love me._ The words came back to her, for the second time in two days. _Maybe you'll even love me. Maybe you'll even love me. _They repeated over and over again in her mind. She shuddered, and not from the cloud they passed through.

Sylar slowed down now, and began to descend. Claire wasn't sure if she was happy about that or not. There would be no reason for him to be holding her like this, but it meant he would be bringing her somewhere else, where he could do other things to her. On that thought, she preferred flying.

They landed on the ground and Sylar released Claire immediately. It was an odd sensation because the moment Sylar let her go she had control over her body, but the next moment he held her motions in his grasp again as she stumbled, and kept her from falling. He freed her the next instant. Feeling like a fish being flopped about, she blinked in confusion when Sylar started to walk silently towards a building that looked like an apartment complex._ Now, _Claire thought, _Run now!_

She stepped back once, and when Sylar did nothing, twice more. Still nothing. She turned and bolted. Claire ran as fast as she could, not knowing where she was going and not caring so long as it was away from Sylar.


	3. Friend and Foe

Chapter Three: Friend and Foe

The blonde girl ran for eight city blocks. No one stopped her. She started to slow down, cautiously at first, eyes searching every dark corner for him. Then she came to a tired walk. Eight blocks wasn't that far. It was the adrenaline rush and the stress that made her tired. She turned a corner just because it made her feel more like she was evading someone.

_Where is he?_Claire wasn't sure how smart a decision running had been now. Sylar needed her for some reason. That much was obvious. He could have stopped her when she was leaving. That too, was clear. Sylar had immense power. He'd been forcing Claire to move the way _he _wanted all night. There was no way he could have not noticed his captive just run off. She had a bad feeling about this. He could be anywhere, waiting to make a move. She had no doubt he was watching her. So the question was really whether she preferred her enemy in plain sight and close enough to touch or out of view but away from her.

And right now, standing in the middle of an unknown neighborhood, she wasn't sure about the answer. Claire broke in to a run and went four more blocks before taking another turn. A few blocks later, she began to regret her choice of direction.

The neighborhood she'd stumbled into was ratty and dangerous-looking. For the first time she saw people outside. Dark, angry-looking men sat and stood in front of their beat down homes with boarded up or blackened windows, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone clutching a cigarette. People's eyes lingered as Claire trotted on, trying her best to scope out everything as discretely as possible.

She saw one man stared as she passed. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. He was white with a shaved head, clothed in jeans and a baggy hoodie, and he was definitely looking at her. He sat on the front step of a building with three other similar-looking men across the street from Claire. They were smoking and drinking. They all looked up at her as she passed, and one hooted drunkenly, but that one man, the skinhead, stared at her shamelessly. Just as he left the sight of her peripheral vision, he stood and nudged one of his buddies.

Claire was afraid. She supposed she shouldn't be. What did an invincible girl have to fear? She had to admit to herself, however, that it wasn't likely these men wanted to hurt her. At least, not in a way that regeneration would come in handy. It was worth fearing what drunk men would really be after from a teenaged girl all on her own on a dark night.

She jogged on, and after two more blocks alone, let her worried mind go to rest. If they hadn't come after her yet, what made her think they would at all?

That's where she was wrong.

The street turned ahead and ended abruptly. Claire turned to go back and that was when she saw him. One of the men from before, who had been sitting and drinking in front of the house. He had a cigarette in hand as he walked. She wouldn't have had much suspicion for him had she not recognized him.

Claire cursed to herself. To go back, she'd have to pass him; and no doubt his friends were nearby. She glanced around. There wasn't much around to be considered as an escape route other than a a few alleys that could very well be dead ends.

That left her with two options. She could run for the alleys and hope she found one that led through to a safer place. It was quite possible, perhaps even likely, that all of the alleys ended in a wall. Quite literally a dead end. The second option was to walk past the creep coming towards her and hope he wasn't after her. The chances of him being a friendly guy who let her pass by unscathed seemed twice as impossible. If the alleys ended in walls, then Claire was trapped. But if the creep on the sidewalk getting closer and closer every second she hesitated had as bad of intentions as she suspected, then Claire was trapped anyway. She didn't like her odds.

It came down to fight or flight. And with another seemingly endless moment of deliberation that was only the smallest instant in time, Claire took her chances with flight. She turned heel and ran.

The moment she did, there were shouts behind her. She spared a glance and saw a crew of three more people, the gang from before, join their buddy the Creeper.

Claire cursed aloud and pushed her body to go faster. She reached the first alley. Dead end. She started for the next closest one. The men were gaining. The second one also ended in a tall wall of brick. There was just one alley left. It was her only chance of escape. With the men dangerously close, Claire ran faster than she had ever thought she was capable of even with the adrenaline again burning through her all-too-tired body. She reached the third and final alley and flung herself around the corner...

Only to find a brick wall staring her down. Another dead end.

Claire whipped around but the men were already all too close. They were only five meters from the alley's opening. They had slowed, realizing that she was caught like a fly in a spiderweb. They jeered at her half-drunkenly. She looked around for a weapon of some sort and found only a light (but surprisingly solid) metal shower curtain rod.

"Well now, just lookie what we got here." It was the bald man who had stared so unwaveringly earlier. Baldie led his little gang into the entrance of the alley. The two men holding up the rear, just a few moments slower than the rest, seemed more than a little drunk. But Baldie and Creeper were sober enough.

Claire moved the rod in her hand enough to draw attention to it. She hoped they didn't notice her hand trembling slightly. There might be a chance she could get out of this...alive wasn't the right word. She was going to live any way this went down. Unhurt didn't work either. She would heal from any wound. Leaving without being emotionally perturbed...that was chancy at best.

"Feisty," Baldie was looking at her makeshift weapon, "I like that in a girl." He stopped just out of range of the rod's reach. "Well," He amended, "I like to beat it out of a girl, anyway." The drunks in the back laughed stupidly while Baldie went for something in the waistband of his jeans. Claire was what he pulled out and had to fight off a laugh. The skinhead held a gun out at arm's length.

"Now how's about we put that pole down, girlie?" He threatened with a slight twitch of his arm just to emphasize his weapon. What he didn't know...

"Or what, you'll shoot?" Claire spoke for the first time since she'd been in her dorm with Sylar, what felt like a lifetime ago.

"Yes." Baldie didn't seem intimidated by her fearlessness and refusal to back down. He didn't stop to think that maybe she knew something he didn't. A plan began to formulate in her mind. One that gave her real hope. She stood a decent chance now. She bit back laughter at Baldie's stupidity. He was making her escape possible.

"Go ahead." Claire said boldly, not a trace of joke on her face. She was all business and threat. "Shoot me."

The two drunks who had been guffawing through Baldie's entire little show fell silent. Skinhead himself hesitated. Creeper just stared with a look that could best be described as transfiction.

Claire used her life-given lemons and took advantage of Baldie's hesitation. She swung the shower pole.

Two things happened in the instant Claire raised her weapon. The first was her follow-through. She hit the bald head of her attacker squarely hard enough to give him a concussion. The second was a silent shot from the skinhead's gun (Claire hadn't recognized the lengthened barrel as a muffler).

She felt the bullet pierce her chest, and an empty, useless feeling when she breathed told her he'd punctured her lung. It healed and the bullet fell out as she took her second swing. Baldie fired a second, third, and fourth shot as Claire brought the rod down on his head a third time, finally knocking him to the ground.

All eyes were on her. She was still standing after four shots. This was what she'd been waiting for. She felt an irritating twinge in her abdomen shoulder, right cheekbone. Blood trickled down her face in full view. She silently thanked Baldie's bad aim. She felt the blood flow stop as quickly as it had started.

She stared at the three still standing. The two drunks were wide-eyed in shock, looking sobered up, even. Their jaws hung wide open as Claire healed before their eyes. Three metal clinks rang in the air as the bullets were pushed out of her body and hit the ground. The holes healed. She blood dried to her newly reformed skin. It was dead silent.

She took advantage of their fear. She kicked the gun out of Baldie's hand, enjoying the look of terror on his face and shouldered her shower rod. Baldie scrambled towards his mates.

"Welcome to Hell, boys."


End file.
